Hooked

by Nicole Howard

  ***

  Maggie and I are the furthest thing from exclusive. She sees other guys. I screw other girls. It’s the crux of our anti-relationship. I’m fully aware of this. Hell, I’ve overheard Maggie and Ally talk about the men she’s met. But witnessing it, when I’m in the same room and there is no fucking need to find another guy to take care of her for the night. It’s rocked me to my core.

  We’ve had our moments, ones where we get pissed, angry, frustrated. We’ve argued, we’ve told each other off, we’ve given each other the cold shoulder. But never, over the fourteen months we’ve been fucking, have I ever turned to jealousy for revenge. But here I am, stooping to a new low, desperate to find a way to make her react.

  Instead of making small talk, I’m on the prowl. I’m on the lookout for the closest thing to the total package. Gorgeous, banging body, dripping with sex appeal. Someone single, who will hang off my every word and let me put on the best damn show of my life. A girl who will make Maggie jealous. Jealous that I chose someone else, even when she’s standing right in front of me. That I want someone else more than I want her. She needs to feel what I’m feeling, and I’m praying my mission hits its mark.

  Fame has its perks and the one I’m most thankful for is that finding a willing, clueless, participant is much easier than it should be. Some women don’t care how or why, they just care who, and lucky for me, I’m a who thousands of women seem to want. Bad boy image and all. She made it obvious, standing by the bar, not hiding the fact that she is staring. Petite, with a rocking ass, and long blonde hair. She was the polar opposite of Maggie, a quality I hoped would burn her ass when she noticed.

  After years of practice, flirting comes as naturally to me as being behind the drum kit, so performing took little to no effort. It’s routine. I could do it my sleep, on autopilot. I do it well enough that I can keep the blonde, who happens to be Kendall from New York, occupied while I steal glances at Maggie, making sure that she was watching the show. Front row seats with backstage passes. She’s getting the full experience.

  Maggie’s struggle was obvious, torn between looking at me and paying attention to Tim’s cousin. After spending so much time with her I knew her body language. The way she was fidgeting and shifting on her feet, her eyes darting in every direction except mine, she saw me. I could feel it. Emotions swirled inside of me. Jealousy at the fact that she was still talking to another man. Pride that she was affected by seeing me with another girl. Confusion on why it was important to hurt her. I was digging under her skin, when everything between us was supposed to be nothing more than sex.

  The drama was turning out to be too much. My head throbbed and I was losing my grip on the purpose of my behavior. My motivation was faltering. If I wanted to make Maggie pay for letting me down when it came to my plan for screwing her that night, then my job was done. I’d found a replacement for Maggie. She was standing right in front of me, and if sex is all I needed and wanted, then I had the solution in the form of a blonde.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” I asked, interrupting Kendall mid-sentence. I hadn’t been paying attention to what she was saying anyway.

  “Sure.” Her smile was so bright it made me weary. For the first time since the night I lost my virginity, things felt wrong. She made me feel like I was nothing more than a prize to be won. Don’t get me wrong. I’m aware that a large majority of the women that I’ve slept with have probably bragged about hooking up with the drummer from Hazed. But it had never skeeved me out. But the blonde, her smile seemed too wide, too fake, too pleased. Despite the warning bells and red flags, I pressed on. I couldn’t back out. Not with Maggie watching. She had to see us leave together.

  True to form, our exit was loud and large. After all, it was a launch party for Hazed and when the biggest partier in the band leaves early, it draws attention. Kendall’s unfamiliar hand was clasped in mine, as we walked out of the building and into an awaiting limo. Cameras flashed and Kendall’s artificially white smile was plastered across her face, her eyes gleaming for the paparazzi.

  It wasn’t new to me, a woman carried away by the idea of fame. Kendall was basking in her fifteen minutes. Most days, I could care less, but tonight the behavior was getting on my nerves. No doubt aggravated by my frustration over Maggie, but regardless of the why, the annoyance was there. And it didn’t fade.

  Kendall’s lips were glued to mine on the drive to the hotel. Her hands were eager to explore, specifically focusing on the midsouth, but my head wasn’t into it. Every touch was wrong. Too fake. Too needy. Too scripted. My libido was having none of it. Even closing my eyes and drifting back to memories of Maggie wasn’t working. Every image of Maggie was followed up with replays from the evening. Another man touching what should have been mine for the night. How she pursued him when she should have been sneaking me her room key. The evening took an unexpected turn. My anger drove me even further off course, leaving me next to a woman I wanted nothing to do with.

  “I can’t do this.” As gentle as possible, I pushed Kendall away, putting distance between our bodies.

  “What do you mean?” Her plump red lips pouted.

  “My head’s not into it. Sorry.” The realization that I had changed hit me like a freight train. I dropped my head into my hands. “For fuck’s sake.” I grumbled. “How the hell did this happen?”

  “What are you talking about?” The old me would have screwed the girl next to me right then. Just to prove that I wasn’t developing feelings for someone. To deny everything that was going on between Maggie and me. To prove that I didn’t let things go too far. And I would. I would jump back in the sack with someone because Maggie and I were just sex. But tonight, wasn’t the night. I needed time to get my head on right and drive this goddamn nonsense out of my mind.

  “I don’t even know. I just need some time to myself.”

  Instead of bailing on Kendall in typical playboy style, I stayed in the limo until she was dropped off at her apartment building before asking to be dropped off at another hotel. I couldn’t handle staying in the same building as Maggie. I couldn’t. Not with the mess that was going on in my head. I’d probably act like a lovesick fool and bang down her hotel room door, before pounding Tim’s cousin’s face to a pulp. All of which were not things I was ever going to do in this lifetime. Instead, I would drink myself into a stupor, alone on the other side of the city, and remind myself why I am who I am.

  Chapter 7

  Wading In

  Maggie

  Against my better judgment, I hopped on a plane and flew to New York for the launch of Hazed’s new album. In fact, I had turned down the invite from Ally, twice, only to have her pull the guilt card. Turns out when your best friend is about to give birth, she can convince you to do just about anything. Even when doing so was detrimental to my psychological well-being. The minute I walked into the venue I knew I made a mistake.

  I could only blame myself, really. The inner turmoil was my own doing. Most of the time, when I was standing in line at the checkout at the grocery store, I ignored the magazines flooding the racks. After watching what Ally and Sarah went through on a regular basis, witnessing firsthand the rumors about their lives being smeared across glossy covers, I decided that garbage didn’t even warrant my attention. I made a conscious effort to focus on anything other than magazines. For whatever reason, that one day, I didn’t look the other way.

  In retrospect, it was impossible to look the other way when it came to Justin. More specifically, Justin and a rocker chick plastered across the covers of multiple magazines. His arm was wrapped around her and she was leaning into his chest, revealing only her side profile. But even with the limited view, anyone could see, they looked perfect together. Her toned arms covered in colorful tattoos, her lip pierced with a hoop, and her make-up done like a pin-up. Rocker chick fit him. She made sense for his image and seeing it there, right in front of me, it burned.

  My hands gripped tight on the handle of the grocery cart, channel
ing my anger into the plastic-coated metal. Being upset was stupid. Justin and I weren’t an item. What he did outside of our time together was none of my business. He could hook-up with whoever he wanted. Hell, he could take off and get married if the desire struck him. We were nothing to each other, and that was the way we both wanted it. When was my period due? This ridiculous reaction had to be due to PMS, hormonal reactions, and all that jazz. Combine that with my insane workload at the office over the past few weeks, my emotional implosion made sense. Overtired. Overworked.

  It didn’t matter. The underlying causes didn’t change the fact that I cared too much. I couldn’t afford to care. Justin and I had become too close. I felt a connection with him and that left me with one option. Things had to end. It was time to move on and put this whole Justin thing behind me. It had gone on long enough anyway. We had started relying on convenience too often and it was becoming too comfortable. From here on out, I promised myself I would be true to who I am and the life I wanted to live life without a man. A life without Justin.

  It made sense that dread settled deep in the pit of my stomach at the party. No room for the excitement I should be experiencing for my first foray into the celebrity party scene. My outfit was killer, a striped mustard yellow and cream fitted dress topped off with dark brown ankle boots, a strategic combination of sweet and sexy. As hair days go, my crazy red mane was having the best day of its life. Soft, shiny, sleek, and by some miracle, zero frizz. Hallefreakinlujah! Seriously, I should be dancing my way into the party, feeling on top of the world. But nope, not the case. Instead, I wanted to puke. The butterflies in my stomach were hopped up on uppers, ricocheting from side to side, erratic flying insects.

  The guest list included more than five hundred people, avoiding Justin should be simple, but because fate has the tendency to channel my mother on the first day of her period, that wasn’t the case. For the first time in my adult life, I was faltering, desperate to hide from a man who was clueless of my intent to evade him. Immature as it might be, it was the only viable solution to my unexpected and unwarranted feelings. Coming face to face with the cause of my breakdown wasn’t something I was equipped to handle.

  Within five minutes of my arrival, Justin had spotted me from across the room. His long hair was slicked back off his face and the man was dressed in a suit. Mouth watering to the nth degree. I was right in steering clear. No woman would stand a chance of sorting out their thoughts within his vicinity. Justin had other thoughts and was closing the distance between us. Panicking, I turned my back on him and sought out Ally, the pregnant demon who had coerced me into this hellhole.

  After joining up with Ally, Tim, and a few of his family members, I allowed myself a quick glance at Justin. He raised his eyebrows in question but shrugged and walked away. A few minutes later I spotted him by the bar, talking to people while sipping on a glass of amber liquor.

  I’m not sure how much time had passed, but somehow, I found myself standing there with one hand pressed against the chest of a stranger named Chris, Tim’s cousin from Malibu. I’m even less sure of what I’m doing, and more importantly why I’m doing it. Why did it matter what Justin thought? What was I trying to prove?

  It was too late to pull back, besides the ends justified the means. I’d be the one to pull the strings. It seemed fitting that promiscuity has a place in the series finale of Maggie and Justin. I anticipated a few puffs of steam from Justin before he’d relent and move on with his life. He’d realize our hookups were in the past. It would be easy to let us fade out.

  Easy until Justin moved on. In less than ten minutes! Like, what the hell? If I thought I was laying it on thick, but my game was weak compared to Justin’s. In record time, he had sidled himself up to a petite blonde, sporting fake breasts and a padded ass. I’d been a fool to believe I had the upper hand. After all, this was his life and although it had been easy to ignore his life outside of us, to be naïve to his lifestyle, the ease in which he found the perfect someone in mere minutes, was a slap in the face.

  It would never matter how much I flirted and flaunted, there would always be something better on the horizon for Justin. The man was a worldwide player after all. My power move, while done with valid intentions, only proved how little power I had. He was the one holding all the cards, and my resolve to keep my distance, to push past the desire, no longer felt solid. No matter how much I knew it’s what I needed. For my sanity. For my heart and soul.

  I tried to focus on Chris. Honestly, I did. But I couldn’t ‘stop my eyes from wandering to the other side of the room, time and time again. Desperate for control, I’d even stooped to pinching my thigh when my attention strayed. I wanted off the crazy train I had started. My jaw ached from clenching, angry from seeing Justin’s hands on her.

  Justin barely acknowledged my existence. The asshole hung on her every word while drooling over the artificial cleavage. I wanted to leave. I wanted to hide. In my experience, hiding was the better alternative to being ignored and my experience should be highly regarded. After all, hiding was how I survived my childhood. Feeling so insignificant to Justin took me back to those horrible days.

  My favorite place to hide was underneath the abandoned slide in the back corner of the playground. “Hello, Magpie!” Devin, one of the boys from my class called, sneering as he and a group of friends closed in on my space. No one ever used the rusting metal slide, not when there was a new, plastic playset on the other side of the school. The boys had no reason to be near me, other than to torment a little girl.

  “Devin.” I acknowledged, keeping my head down. “What do you want?”

  “We were just wondering why you were sitting over here, Magpie. I mean, if you want to be like your mama, shouldn’t you be over with everyone else, collecting men?” For a nine-year-old, his accusation was a bit intense, definitely regurgitated babble from his mother. Another one of the women worried about her husband. They seemed to be multiplying after my mom’s latest conquest was in fact stealing the husband of one of my teachers. It didn’t help that the scorned wife was also friends with most of the students’ mothers. The nickname ‘Magpie’ circulated the school within weeks of mom’s new boyfriend moving into the house. Mother-dearest was already sporting an engagement ring and he was well positioned to become husband number four once the ink dried on his divorce papers.

  That’s how my mother worked. I learned that lesson early on in life. What I wouldn’t give to be any other kid on the playground. Sure, my mom’s hobby a.k.a. life strategy, worked to my advantage when it came to possessions. We lived in a nice house, mom drove a high-end car, and I had a closet full of pretty clothing but all the things my mother lived for, I would give up in a heartbeat for just a taste of normalcy.

  Sighing, I accepted my place in the world and hid behind my defenses. “But you see Devin, there isn’t anything here worth collecting.” The group of laughing boys stopped short and Devin was affronted, not expecting the snappy comeback. I turned my back on the boys and went back to my imagination, trying to pass the rest of the lunch hour without talking to anyone else who would shoot a hurtful comment or two my way. Little girls could dream, right? Fairy tales could come true and no matter how slim the chances, I continued to make the same wish, that someday my mom would marry a man who took us away from this place. Someplace where no one knew who we were.

  But standing beside Chris, the clear loser of the unofficial game, Justin was proof that it didn’t matter that no one knew where I came from. I would always be on my own.

  ***

  We all have skeletons in our closets, secrets about our past that we pray will never surface. I was as shocked as everyone when Sarah’s came to light. Never in a million years would I have guessed that she led such a tragic life. One of my closest friends had lost her husband and daughter in a house fire. The accident left her with extreme anxiety, living in fear. And I had no idea. Ally and I should have known. We should have picked up on the clues in her behavior, but we didn’t
. Ally had an excuse, being the single parent of a baby, she had her hands full. Me on the other hand, I didn’t have an excuse. Not a valid one anyway.

  After the revelation, I spent time digging deep into myself, questioning how I’d let this slip by. The only conclusion I could draw was the truest one. I was a selfish friend.

  Unwilling to fail Sarah a second time, I traveled to the Hazed concert. For her, it was conquering fear and finding a way to support Ian. It was her way of showing him that she was ready to move forward. For me, it was the opposite, stepping back into the snake pit instead of running for the hills. I hadn’t spoken to Justin since the whole launch party fiasco. He had tried to reach out, sending a couple of text messages, but they went unanswered. Being backstage by myself before the concert was the last place I wanted to be, but my friendship with Sarah trumped self-preservation. Sarah deserved more.

  Despite my new determination and life purpose, I was knocked off-kilter at the first sight of Justin. Why did he have to be so present? The second he was within eyesight my attention gravitated to his wide, tattooed frame. Visually, I raked him over, focusing on his hair, which was loose and hanging in his face. God, how I wanted to push the strands off his face while he climbed on top and positioned himself between my legs. I had to get a grip, or I was going to cave before he even opened his mouth.